Blood Running Black, Book One in the The Salem Institute for Witches
by arthuralbinodragon
Summary: The Salem Institute for Witches follows Micah Seabane, his bestfriends (OC'S) and their wizarding adventures in the World of Harry Potter. This takes place in the United States, following the events of the Deathly Hallows; Voldemort's shadow leaves a casting darkness that affects all wizards, a reality Micah will come to learn, as something sinister emerges from the Institute.
1. Chapter 1

**The Salem Institute for Witches**

**Introduction**

Tucked away, right in plain sight, is an academy of education. This academy isn't like its counterparts, not to say it really has any in the conventional sense, but here, they don't just learn Science and Math, no. No, what's taught in these halls is far more special than can be learned in any other institution in the United States of America.

You see, in the Salem Institute for Witches, the finest witches and wizards are trained to hone their magical abilities to become the best of their age. Founded just three years before the Salem Witch trials, the school was headed by the Original Three: Sarah Eaglewood, Olivia Ursong, and Katherine Vulpin. These women created a haven for those blessed with magic, its power coursing through their veins.

They divided the Institute into three Halls: Eaglewood, Ursong and Vulpin. Those who were free-willed and brave found themselves in Eaglewood Hall. Ursong Hall embraced the loyal and strong. Students who were cunning and quick-thinking aligned in Vulpin. Under their shared vision young witches grew and became beacons of the promise of a magical future in the New World.

In 1765, a fourth leader emerged in the Institute at the insistence of Benjamin Franklin—he was actually very in-tune with all things magical—William Whitetail, an American-born wizard who had studied in Europe. With the spur of the American Revolution, Franklin believed that the school would do well to tutor young wizards, as well. The Original Three agreed, and Whitetail joined the school as their Black Magic Defense Instructor, creating what became known as the American Four: the Witches and Wizard who inspired a magical surge in the Americas.

Whitetail founded his own hall which accepted the honest and intelligent, and under their supervision, witches and wizards of all ages learned the most basic and most advanced ways to protect themselves against whatever evil came against them and ways to build themselves, their friends and their community for the better.

It is here, in this academy that we find our story. For you see, within these walls, a student will leave his mark on the wizarding world… for better or for worse.

**Chapter 1.**

Micah tried as hard as he could to concentrate; Professor Grudgins had given them at least two hours of charms homework. Well, it was _only _an essay on the importance of the Reparo charm in ensuring the American Revolution's success, but so far, he had been staring at his quill for…well…two hours.

"Maybe we should cheat?" Arno suggested in a huff.

Arnold "Arno" Timbleworm was Micah's very, very best friend, since the dawn of time—if you consider the big food fight during their 3rd year the dawn of time. Arno was your average rich kid: entitled, proud and sometimes, really annoying; BUT he really did have a good heart…somewhere. His great grandfather was Wimbly Timbleworm, ace smuggler of magical artifacts during the American Revolution. His acquisition of cold-warding herbs—an export of the crown—allowed Washington to sail the Delaware in his underwear. True story. Granted, Arno wasn't as courageous as his grandfather, he still had the long, silver-speckled hair that was typical of the Timbleworms.

"We can't cheat, dummy," Micah grunted, sweeping his light brown hair out of his face with his hand. Grudgins has an honesty spell for the paper, and you know they'll squeal on us."

"Stupid paper."

"Yeah, Arno, stupid paper."

Arno made an ugly face at Micah.

"Then what do you suggest, Sir Seabane?"

Micah rolled over on his bed and stared at the ceiling which had a painted mural of a whitetail stag, the sigil of their hall. He and Arno had been sorted their first day in to Whitetail Hall by the Looking Glass, a magical mirror that would sort students by having them look into the mirror. The legend says that while the student looks into the glass, the glass looks into the student: their goals, their fears, their strengths and weakness, and sorts them in the hall that would not only benefit by having them, but would benefit them as well.

"Well," Micah began, looking over his shoulder to the clock on the wall—it read 6:30 pm—"we could head down to the Mess Hall, and see if anyone else is having trouble?"

"Food does sound good right about now," Arno said rubbing his belly. "Let's go!"

The boys grabbed their silver and black robes and ran out of their room and down the corridor, down the stairs, jumped over the pond, up another set of stairs and into the common room. It was very clean and modern for the time, especially for the Wizarding World. In the center of the room was a large throw rug which laid on top of wormwood hardwood.

Different clusters of seating chairs with white cushions littered the room, along with a few tables and metal chairs for students to do their homework. Right at the very end of the room, opposite of the stair well was a tall, sleek fireplace which extended fifteen feet to the ceiling. Just like in their room, the white stag adorned most accents, along with a few portraits of various former Whitetail students and other magical people.

However, unlike your common painting or photo, these pictures came to life.

"Arno, top of the evening to you!" A fat man walking his dog said; this painting was right next to the door to leave. His name was Talking Thomas.

"Good evening, Tom, I hope you're well."

"As well as I'll ever be. Say, did you boys hear about the Ursong Quidditch team this year?"

"No," Micah said as Arno rolled his eyes, "What about them?"

"Word on the wall is that they're Keeper is being expelled!" Tom danced hysterically while his dog licked himself. "Stop that!"

"Expelled?!" exclaimed Arno, "What the hell for?"

Micah waited impatiently for the answer as Tom neared to add dramatic effect.

"Black Magic…"

"Black Magic?" Arno asked, mortified, "You mean like…"

"Yes, just like him! I thought after all of that mess with Potter stopping him, more Wizards and Witches would learn to only use their magic for good!"

"Do you really think Humphrey was using Black Magic?" Micah asked in disbelief.

"I'll write to dad and ask him about it. He and Humprey's dad are really close thanks to their involvement in the American Quidditch team. Maybe he'll know something?"

"Maybe," Micah asked, shaking his head. _Black Magic…_ he thought, _I've never heard of anyone actually practicing it. At least not here._

As they walked down the corridor, they could hear the whispers of their fellow students.

"Boy, it seems everyone's heard about Humphrey," Arno said, averting eyes from Melinda Sugarstone—his secret crush.

"I'll say. I mean, I've _never_ heard of anyone practicing Black Magic here in Salem. That was like, muggle propaganda, or something."

"Maybe we should ask Professor Lucero?"

"Yeah, come on," Micah agreed, darting down another corridor.

Professor Lucero was the current Black Magic Defense Instructor, accepting the position thirty years prior, though you'd never know it considering he didn't look a day over twenty five. As the boys entered his office, he was pulling his auburn hair into a bun.

"Professor Lucero!" they both shouted as they busted into the room.

"Where's the fire?!" he exclaimed, knocking over his ink pot.

"Oh, sorry, Professor," Micah said, using his handkerchief to soak up the excess ink.

"Stop, stop, Micah," Lucero said with a chuckle, "You're getting ink everywhere, I got it."

He pulled out a long, slender wand and with the flick of a wrist, the ink leapt off of the table, and out of the handkerchief, and back into the pot. He smiled.

"Now, what is so important that you've given me a reason to buy a new door?"

"Well, we were curious," Arno began.

"If it was true about Humphrey?" Micah finished.

Lucero's smile grew dim, and he looked away.

"It is. Professor Stoddery found him practicing…" his voice trailed.

"Practicing what, Professor?" Micah insisted.

"Something very, very dark."

"Dark?" they murmured.

"Dark enough to remind me of days I hope to never live again…with You-Know-Who."

"No way," Arno said. "You know my dad said that he was there, at the Battle of Hogwarts…" he said excited, but paused to think about it: "Then again…I was being born on our Island in the Pacific…"

"No offense, Arno," Lucero said, choosing his words carefully, "Your dad was nowhere near that battle. None of us here were. We had our own problems here in the States."

"Like what?" Micah asked; his mind racing.

"Look, boys, there's nothing for you to worry about." He was avoiding the subject. "I promise. Headmaster Rentiwink will keep us all safe."

"Well, that's good." Arno said, relieved.

Micah wasn't convinced. He studied Lucero's face carefully. Behind his calming smile, was the truth, Micah knew it. Something he didn't want them to know. What was Humphrey doing?

Later on that evening, the boys were relaxing in the Whitetail common room with their friends Alicia Sugarstone, another 4th year, and Windle Fibershuck, a 3rd year. Arno was mindlessly petting his cat, Edward Whiskerhands, while the others talked about the hottest topic to hit the school…

"In decades." Alicia declared.

"You really think so?" Windle asked, his eyes wider than a chasm.

"Duh? I mean, if you forget about what happened in England like, fifteen years ago, or whatever," she raced, her hands moving almost as much as her mouth.

"Well, that was a big deal," Micah reminded.

"Yeah, it was a big deal. I mean, when you think about it, the shoe seems to fit, you know?"

"What do you mean, Alicia?" Windle asked eagerly.

"She means Humphrey's granddad," Arno explained as he stared distantly. Micah wondered if he had been listening at all with his blank stare and all.

"Wha'bout him?"

"Windle, don't you know anything?" Alicia asked.

"Don't be mean," Micah scolded.

"Sorry, I'm just saying, I thought everyone knew about his granddad. He was like a big supporter of You-Know-Who and his Pure Blood regime, and whatever."

"Really?" Windle said worried; he was a half-blooded wizard on his mom's side.

"Oh, yeah," she continued, "I mean, he was the founder of the Death Lords, you know, like the American whatchamacallits."

"Death Eaters," Arno said, again, distantly.

"Right, them. He almost burnt Salem to the ground, as well as other major towns. It was, like, a _huge _PR nightmare for the Department of Magic. I even think they had to brief the President." She smiled. She loved knowing everything.

"Whooooooa," Windle twiddled his thumbs. "You don't think Humphrey wants to come after me, do you?"

"Don't worry," Micah said with a smile, "If anyone can keep us safe, it's Professor Lucero."

"I agree, besides…" Alicia stopped and sighed deeply, "he's so completely hot."

"Shut up," the boys said in unison.

"Fine, whatever. Idiots. That reminds me, did either of you finish the report for Charms?"

"See, about that," Micah began.

Arno's focus finally snapped back.

"We need to cheat off you…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

"Now, I've read all of your reports on the importance of the Raparo charm in the American Revolution," Professor Grudgins stated matter-o-factly. He reminded Micah of a giant turkey stuffed into a set of brown and green robes—the colors of the Ursong Hall. His blonde hair was wild and unkempt, yet his piercing blue eyes somehow showed through. He had a thin mustache, much like the Three Musketeers—in Arno's professional opinion.

"Now, most of you did very well."

"Except Arno," Arno muttered under his breath.

"However, some of you decided to go in a way that wasn't historically accurate. At no point did the Reparo charm fix the stick in Professor Gru—my backside."

Micah tried to give Arno a look of consolation, because Grudgins was, in fact, glaring at Arno. The rest of the class snickered. Arno shrugged.

After class, Micah and Arno tried to get out of the room as quickly as possible, but despite Professor Grudgin's size, he was without a doubt the fastest teacher in school. He had already appeared behind them, the moment they turned around.

"You would think, Mr. Timbleworm, that a young man of your…_distinguished_ stature would care more about his education, wouldn't you agree Mr. Seabane?"

"Sir, I just thought—"

"I know what you _thought_, Mr. Timbleworm, but let me tell you something you should think about." Grudgins tightened the large belt he used to keep his robes close, "15 points will be deducted from Whitetail Hall for insubordinate behavior, and I have half a mind to write to your father." He then looked at Micah, "Both of your fathers."

Micah shuddered at the thought. His family wasn't nearly as wealthy as Arno's, but his dad was Elijah Seabane, a world-renowned wizard-for-hire—an Auror, of sorts. He was as ruthless as he was kind, and Micah's education at the Institute was paramount.

"That won't be necessary, Professor," Micah insisted.

"Yeah, besides, we wouldn't want your writing to be interrupted by your discomfort," Arno added.

"Excuse me, Mr. Timbleworm?" Grudgins glared at Arno intensely.

"You know, because of that st—"

"Nothing, Professor, see you Friday!" Micah interrupted, covering Arno's mouth forcefully. He kicked Arno in the back of the leg as they walked out, mostly because Arno was still talking despite Micah's hand.

"Are you out of your mind?" Micah shouted as they walked down the hall. "He's already taken fifteen points from Whitetail and he probably would've taken another fifty had you finished!"

"Okay, first of all, he wouldn't dare take fifty," Arno began.

"Yes, he would," Micah corrected, though Arno didn't seem to be paying attention.

"And secondly, my dad pays a lot of money into this school. We wouldn't want that to go away, now would we?"

"Whatever, Arno. Your dad would string you up before you even finished writing your letter," Alicia declared. She had snuck up on them, and was, obviously, eavesdropping.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Arno squeaked, taking two steps away.

"From Potions, duh. But I heard about your report for Charms," she snickered, "Did you really mention the stick up Grudgin's butt?"

"Well," Arno said, proudly, "I—"

"Good morning, Arno," Melinda said as she walked by them. Her smile stopped Arno dead.

"Good morning, Mel, I hope classes are treating you well," Alicia said, hugging her sister. Unlike her, Melinda was sorted into Eaglewood. Melinda nodded that they were and went on her way.

"H-h-hi," Arno finally sputtered out.

"Too late, smoothness," Micah mocked. "Next time, try saying hi when she's actually still here."

"Shut up, Micah."

"Your crush on my sister is, like, really obvious...you know she totally knows, right?"

"Shut up, Alicia!"

The trio, well quartet since Windel joined after his Intro to Magic course, made their way to the Courtyard. The Courtyard was actually five different areas; the combined area looked like an inverted star, where students could go in between periods, after classes or really whenever they found the time. These areas change from day to day depending on how the school feels, and today, the five areas were: a vineyard, plain asphalt, beautiful hills with a pond in the center, a sparring range, and what could be easily explained as the patio of a coffee shop—minus the actual coffee shop.

"Kind of boring today, huh?" Windel asked as he flipped through the pages of his Intro to Magic book.

They were laying on one of the dozen hills, eating their lunch.

"Yeah, but it beats that one day with the swamp," Micah said as he watched some of the students playing in the pond.

"I don't know about that," Alicia chirped, "watching that swamp monster chase Billings Kinnblebee was pretty funny."

The entire group laughed.

"Yeah, that was actually pretty funny," Micah agreed, "It was pretty cool watching Professor Lucero using that as an opportunity to show us the Incarcerous spell."

"Cool? It was freaking amazing!" Windel insisted, his eyes showing their usual spark.

"I'll say," Arno chimed. "Actually, I tried using that spell on Professor Grudgins."

"You're an idiot," Micah said with a smile. "How did that go?"

"Pretty well, I mean, I ensnared myself and had to get cut out by Headmaster Riniwink—and losing 5 points for our Hall— but still. Pretty well."

"You really are an idiot, Arno," Alicia reiterated.

Arno stuck his tongue out at Alicia and the group shared a good laugh. All but Windel, who seemed to turn his back from the group. _He must really be into this course,_ Micah said approvingly. They continued to joke about Professor Grudgins, a Whitetail pastime—Whitetail and Ursong Halls were very competitive, and Grudgins was the Head of Ursong Hall; it really just came with the territory.

After about an hour, it was time for them to rush to their next course: An American History of Magic. All but Windel stood up.

"Windel, come on, you're going to be late for class," Alicia said as she wrapped her bag around her neck.

Windel didn't steal away from his book. Micah became concerned; Windel never missed a chance to tag along.

"Windel, c'moooooon. You're slower than an elf," Arno insulted.

He still remained motionless. Finally, Micah knelt down to check on him, but when he placed his hand on Windel's shoulder, he felt an ice cold radiate off of him.

"He's cold."

"What?" Arno said, seemingly concerned. He rushed in front of him; Alicia followed.

They looked like mortified.

"Micah, he's…dead." Alicia whimpered. "Someone help!" she screamed, causing everyone around them to stop what they were doing.

Micah's stomach dropped. He rolled Windel over and it was worse than he thought. His skin was a pale blue. He was breathing, but just barely. And his eyes… They were completely black.

Professor Lemonstalk was the first on the scene. She was the Divination professor, but moonlit as a nurse whenever Miss Orline Enerbell, the school's matron, needed an extra hand or two. She said nothing as she scooped a lifeless Windel into her arms. Lucero flew in on his broomstick from somewhere far away, because he snapped into view with a thunder pop from the direction opposite of the school. His broom seemingly disappeared with a swish, and, on his feet, he took Windel from his grievous coworker.

"Professor?" Micah called, having been separated from them by a parade of concerned—more like nosey—classmates.

"Everyone go to their class. Now." Lucero commanded, bounding toward the school.

"What the hell was all that about?" Arno asked, trying to look over the sea of heads.

"You don't think Humphrey was involved, do you?" Alicia asked.

"I don't know," Micah said; the image of Windel's eyes were burned into his mind. "But I think we need to have a word with Professor Lucero..."

"You don't think he's trying to become a dark wizard, do you?" Alicia seemed almost heartbroken.

"I honestly don't know, but then again, what else could it be?" he asked.

They agreed to ask Professor Lucero about it later, and continued to their American History of Magic. This course, Arno's favorite, gave a detailed look into Magic's very important role in the founding of America and its progression today.

"Now," Professor Yun-Li sang; her voice usually seemed to keep the attention of her male students, "while the very popular Muggle novel _Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter_ is entirely fictional, it does give an interesting look into why Vampires were hunted like they were by both the Magical and non-Magical community, alike."

"Professor," Wyatt Ficklesplat, an Ursong, called.

"Yes, Wyatt."

"I thought hunting Vampires was illegal?"

"That's correct, however, there was an idea that they were _monsters_, and I use that term loosely, due to several misunderstandings in the Magical community that was witnessed by Muggles.

"Like what?" Arno shouted, truly interested.

"First of all, Arno," Professor You-Li began, "I've told you fifty two times this month to at least raise your hand before shouting and interrupting your classmates. Five points from Whitetail." The Ursongs snickered, while their fellow Whitetails glared.

"Now," she continued, "As you should already know, the hunting of Vampires was made illegal by the Guidelines for Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans, which was adopted largely in Western Europe before being adopted in the Americas in the early 1800's.

However, discrimination for Vampire kind continued well into the early 1900's, due to an event during the American Revolution, the subject of which is for your report due on my desk no later the next Thursday."

The class groaned.

After class, Micah, Arno and Alicia made their way back to Whitetail Hall to prepare for dinner. Whispers seemed to replace normal chatter in the corridors as hundreds of theories emerged as to what happened to Windel. The most prevalent was that Humphrey became an insane disciple of You-Know-Who and was trying to continue his work in the States.

In fact, dirty looks were given to almost every single Ursong by their fellow students, save the three. Micah just wasn't convinced that Humphrey was capable of something so foul. Sure, like every Whitetail and Ursong, they had a run-in or two, but that was standard ribbing at the Institute. Surely no one was capable of something so…so dark.

Washed up and ready for dinner, the three made a beeline for Professor Lucero's office instead of going straight to the Mess Hall.

Now conscientious of a possible ink spill, Micah knocked on the door instead of barging in.

"Come on in, you three," Lucero called from the other side of the door.

They obeyed and came into the room to find Lucero readying himself for dinner.

"I was wondering when you'd come poking around," he joked.

"Professor," Micah started.

"You want to know what's going on; I know."

"So, then tell us," Arno demanded.

"Arno, my boy, we've been over this. If you want to be taken seriously in proper interactions, you mustn't be such a…what's the best word?"

"Douche?" Alicia suggested.

"You said it, not me," Lucero stated clearly, but agreeing.

"You can't call me that!" Arno reprimanded.

"And I didn't, Arno. Now, stop being so rude." Lucero smiled at Arno's, now, beet-red face. "I'm not supposed to give you all the details, I'm really not; but I know you'll just go sniffing around in places you don't belong.

After all that's happened in the last couple of decades, who knows what's waiting to crawl out of the dark…" his voice trailed as a look of concern crept along his face.

"Professor, what is going on?" Micah pressed.

"Listen. I don't believe You-Know-Who is coming back. He's…gone, and all things willing, he'll stay gone; but that won't stop foolish wizards and witches from either trying to resurrect him or to emulate him."

"Who would want to do either?" Alicia asked.

"Obviously, dark witches or wizards!" Arno corrected.

"Arno…"

"Right, stop being rude. Ugh."

"Thank you. But yes, Alicia, there are some who believe that his return would be great for the entire magical world…well, for the world in general. No Muggles or Muggle-born."

"Is that why they targeted Windel?" Micah asked.

"I honestly hope not, Micah. And with a curse like that…"

"I've never heard of a curse that does that," Arno said, trying to choose his tone carefully.

Lucero, noticing this, nodded in acknowledgement.

"I've only heard, but never seen it for myself…at least not until today," Lucero admitted.

"So, is Windel dead?" Alicia squeaked.

"No, he's not, but honestly," Lucero's demeanor became grimmer than grim, "I'm sure he wishes he was."

The three stared.

"How do you mean?" Micah insisted.

"Listen, you three, I've said a lot more than I should have. Now, I need you to swear to me," he paused, "I _need_ you to _swear _to me that you won't mention this to your classmates. We have a special visitor coming to investigate this, and I will get in a lot of trouble for confiding in my students. Do we understand?"

The lot nodded 'yes.'

"Good. Now, I believe they will take care of this without an issue. So make sure you keep your noses clean. Understood?"

They nodded again.

"Good. Now, let's get some food."

Lucero immediately changed the subject, and escorted them to the Mess Hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

It had been almost a week since Windel's incident. Professors and prefects were a more common sight, though everyone insisted everything was fine. Micah was alone today; Arno landed himself in detention—he reminded Grudgins where his missing stick was—and Alicia was volunteering with her sister in the town.

He walked down a corridor leading to his favorite study hall. It was in Ursong territory, sure, but it had a big bay window that overlooked the Courtyard, and when he was lucky, he was able to see the Courtyard change. He loved watching the old landscape almost fizzle out into nothingness, with a new one appearing out of thin air with a loud POP!

He really needed to finish his report for his American History of Magic course, since it was due in the couple of days. Placing his bag in an empty chair, he claimed a small table near the bay window for himself and proceeded to browse the library for any books that could help with his research. He didn't mind, of course, he enjoyed studying when Arno wasn't around. Arno had a bad habit of distracting him from his studies.

The assignment at hand was an interesting one as well; Vampires had always fascinated him, especially when his father would come home with stories about his adventures and the one or two rogue vampires he'd run into.

"There are bad Vampires," his father, Elijah Seabane, would say, "but there are bad Wizards, too. You can't assume that _everyone_ is out to get you…" but he would caution, "Then again, that doesn't mean they aren't."

Micah had never met a Vampire, but he assumed he had passed them in Main St with his father in town. Every once and awhile, his father's hand would tighten on his shoulder as they passed people. Not every person, just some. Salem had become a bustling trade city in the Magical community, so it wasn't uncommon to pass creatures and Wizards from all ends of the globe. Surely _one_ of them wasn't up to any good.

He snapped his thoughts back into focus. Grabbing _The Magical Revolution: Wizards During the American Revolution _by George Irstones and _Vampiric Revolutiaires: Monsters or Heroes_ by Andrei Sanginali, he sat at his table and began to think about how he would form his report. Professor Yun-Li wasn't very forthcoming with the details of the event that inspired the report—as she never was—so he was hoping that_ Vampiric Revolutionaires_ would give the insight he needed. _Where to begin,_ he thought as he leafed through a few of the pages. Fortunately, he found a passage or two that would help and he began to write:

_Micah Seabane  
American History of Magic  
4__th__ Year, Whitetail House_

_ The Unfortunate Misunderstanding of Vampire Kind that Lead to _

_ the Persecution of Vampire Kind in the 19__th__ Century_

_It is no secret that Wizards and Witches helped in the fight to win American independence from the British; however, it is not as widely known that Vampires also aided in the fight, albeit at night or when the sun was blotted out by heavy rainfalls, or other inclement weather._

He was actually relieved with how easy was able to get his report written despite his busying thoughts. Maybe Arno really was a heavy distraction? Regardless, he loved Arno's company. Arno's brand of entitled-idiocy really rounded out Micah's day; besides, Arno really was a mess without Micah watching out for him.

Then again, perhaps it was best for him to at least do his homework without Arno around? No, he decided, Arno would just cheat off of him anyway. Micah laughed. Arno would cheat off of him so lazily; you wouldn't be able to tell they were supposed to be the same report.

After an hour of writing, he decided to stop by the Infirmary wing to see how Windel was doing. He could still the look of terror on Windel's face as if something terrified him into shock. Alicia definitely noticed his absence too, mentioning that wherever she went, Windel was never too far behind. Maybe he was doing better today? Micah could only hope.

The Infirmary was on the far west side of the Institute, overlooking the Courtyard. It was two stories, as there were often several members of the Eaglewood Hall Quidditch team taking up space. At one point, Eaglewood had to scrounge up an entirely new Quidditch team after a particularly nasty game with Vulpin rendered the entire Eaglewood team unplayable for the rest of the term. It's not that the team can't play; it's just that they would rather risk death than lose; a reality they played with _every single game._

Today, only two members of Eaglewood were there: Moriah Gunglery their Keeper, and Hank Poddins, a reserve Beater.

"What happened this time?" he heard Miss Enerbell ask Hank as she wrapped up his two broken arms with the Ferula charm.

"Well," he said in his nasally tone, "I was just working on some new moves with Moriah and then out of nowhere—"

"The Bludger broke both of his arms…and my nose…" Moriah finished, noticeably bitter.

"Well," Miss Enerbell said in her sweetness, "I should be able to help that nose with a little…Episky," she hummed with a flick.

Moriah eagerly felt her nose and even wiggled it a few times. Elated, she threw her arms around Miss Enerbell.

"Unfortunately," she said to Hank, "Yours will actually require some old fashion healing, although that splint should at least give you some comfort. I'll need you to rest here over the next couple of days, so I can monitor you further."

Moriah said her goodbyes to Hank and smiled to Micah on her way out. Miss Enerbell wasn't too far behind and placed her arm on Micah's arm.

"You're here to see him, aren't you dear?''

"How is he? Can I see him?" Micah asked earnestly.

Miss Enerbell gave a look of both sympathy and woe, and Micah's heart sank.

"I'm sorry, Micah, but his condition hasn't changed and at the insistence of both Headmaster Riniwink and Professor Lucero, we're not permitting students to see him until further notice."

"What's happened to him?" Micah demanded.

"Listen, Micah, you need to go back to your studies. If Windel's condition changes, I promise I'll send for you if I'm able to."

Micah was frustrated, but nodded. He couldn't be upset at her, as she was only doing her job, and frankly, she was the best. Perhaps Professor Lucero would be more forthcoming since he was alone? He decided it was worth a shot, at least.

"Thank you, Miss Enerbell," Micah said with a semi-forced smile.

She nodded, and he quickly left the Infirmary. It was starting to get late, and he wanted to see Professor Lucero before dinner officially commenced in the Mess Hall.

He ran into Alicia not too long after leaving the Infirmary and she seemed distressed.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, "I'm just worried about Windel. I tried to visit him before class this morning and Miss Enerbelll said—"

"That he's under lock down, yeah I know. I just tried to see him," Micah finished.

Alicia passed her hand through her icy-colored hair, and proceeded to chew on the end of thumb.

"You need to calm down, Leese," he said empathetically, though he knew that was easier said than done.

"Like, I don't even know why I'm so worried about him," she admitted, "I mean he's so annoying, following me around and whatever, but…"

"He's our friend, that's why."

"Yeah," her voice trailed. "Maybe we should talk to Lucero?"

Micah knew she needed the peace of mind, but he wanted to try and get Lucero alone. He was sure he could be more effective getting information if he didn't have to worry about anyone else getting in the way.

"How about this, Leese: why don't I go talk to Lucero and see what he thinks, and you go find Melinda and head down to the Mess Hall? You need to keep yourself busy, okay?"

Alicia looked at him for a moment, but she reluctantly agreed to his idea. He gave her a long hug and walked her to their Hall, after which he made his way toward Lucero's office, which was in the Institute's basement, a floor above the "Dungeon."

He always liked the Basement. It wasn't as…formal as the rest of the Institute. It reminded him of Colonial America, or at least what he imagined it to be: smooth stone floors and walls with wooden features that had a lot of character. Even with torches lit, there was a darkness in this floor; he felt comfortable here.

Lucero's office was at the very end of the main corridor, opposite of the entry stairwell. Once he finally got to the large mahogany door, he knocked as hard as he could so that he could pierce through the door's thickness.

"Come on in, Micah," he heard Lucero call.

"How do you always know when it's me?" Micah asked, as he entered the room.

Lucero was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, dozens of books opened around him and he was smoking from a long hose, a hookah bowl sitting ten feet away on the mantel of his fireplace.

"Everyone seems to have a _specific_ knock," he responded without lifting his eyes from the book floating in front of him. "Yours is almost airy, while Arno's…I would dare think he was of Giant descent if I didn't know who his family was." He smiled.

Micah debated on how he would bring up Windel.

"Out with it, man," Lucero commanded.

Micah didn't know how to react. Lucero's eyes lifted from his book for a moment when he noticed Micah still hadn't responded.

"I apologize, Micah," Lucero relented, "Long day. What's on your mind?"

"I tried to go visit Windel today in the Infirmary, and Miss Enerbell said I wasn't able to under your recommendation, so I was hoping you could give me permission to see him?"

Lucero's floating book slowly lowered to the ground and he let of his hose which flew back to its place on the mantel, while he looked at Micah compassionately.

"Listen, bud, I know this is a difficult thing to deal with, but I can't help you there."

"Well, I figured that since you recommended that he be locked down—" Micah tried to argue.

"Micah, look, even if I wanted to give you clearance, I can't, because my permission does nothing against the wishes of Headmaster Riniwink. Besides," Lucero's eyes glassed over, "Windel's condition hasn't improved."

This was his chance to find out what was really going on, so Micah decided if he couldn't see Windel, perhaps he could get some more information.

"Can you at least tell me what is going on? Do you think Humphrey is involved?"

Lucero laughed out of frustration.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I can't say I will," Micah admitted defiantly.

"Sometimes I can't tell you or Arno apart. Fine." He motioned at a chair not too far from where he was sitting.

Micah quickly grabbed a seat and waited impatiently. Lucero sat quiet for a moment and opened his mouth to speak. KNOCK. KNOCK. Two loud thuds interrupted him before he could start.

"Yes, Headmaster?" Lucero called.

The door swung open and a tall, very thin man slowly entered the room; it was Headmaster Riniwink. He had more wrinkles on his face than a crumpled piece of paper, and eyebrows so bushy, you wouldn't be able to begin to guess his eye color. His nose was also large and a very bright pink. How such a feeble man gave such a powerful knock was beyond Micah.

"Micah," Riniwink said softly, "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Sorry, Headmaster," Micah began.

"No need for apologies, I'm sure Professor Lucero was an excellent host."

Micah nodded quickly, and Lucero smiled.

"What can I do for you, Headmaster?" Lucero asked.

"I wanted to know if our preparations for our guests were complete."

"Almost, Sir, I was actually taking care of the last bit now."

Micah looked at Lucero puzzlingly.

"Allow me, Professor," Riniwink said with a smile. "Micah, my boy, we weren't going to bother you with it until we knew for sure he was coming."

"Before you knew _who_ was coming?" Micah asked, concerned.

"Given the circumstances of the nature of Windel," Lucero added, "Headmaster Riniwink and I believed that my expertise alone wasn't enough for the situation, and that we needed to consult outside help."

Micah didn't want to hear who he thought they were talking about.

"Micah, your father will be joining us in order to oversee the security of our school. Considering the status of Windel is almost certainly Dark Magic," Riniwink said 'Dark Magic' very slowly, "we wanted the very best for our students."

"Actually," Lucero corrected, "Arno's father demanded that we hire him." He looked at Micah with a smile, "Your father _wasn't cheap_ after all."

Lucero's joke didn't make Micah's stomach drop any less. If his dad was involved, then the situation was far worse than he thought. The school year _just_ started, and it was already a mess.

"If that's all, Headmaster?" Lucero asked politely.

"Of course, of course," Riniwink said with a wave, "I will see you both at supper." And with that, he left as slowly as he came.

Micah sat in silence, while Lucero stared for a moment, studying him.

"I was planning on telling you," Lucero insisted.

"Sure," Micah said, never taking his eyes off of the ground. He really didn't want to see his dad. He loved him dearly, of course, but where his dad was, there was always trouble. _Always, _and not the trouble Arno got them into.

Lucero sat silently, still watching, but Micah didn't move. He was frozen.

"Are you afraid of your father?" Lucero pried.

Micah looked at him with a blank stare.

"I don't mean to overstep my boundaries."

"You're fine, Professor, honestly. It's just, if you _hired_ my dad."

"Yes, we've got some trouble on our hands." Lucero looked away for a moment.

"Is it Humphrey?"

Lucero pondered the question a moment, "I'm not sure, Micah… You see, when Professor Stoddery found him, he was attempting to learn the Killing Curse."

"The Killing Curse…really?!" It was worse news than hearing about his father.

"Really. I don't know where he got the manuscript, but Stoddery was quick to confiscate it, and we immediately burned it."

"A manuscript?"

"Yes. As to who wrote it, we don't know, but we're hoping that the two incidents are isolated."

Micah tried to process the troubling information.

"Now, we _know_ that what has happened to Windel is Dark Magic, but considering Humphrey's knowledge was limited to that of the manuscript—knowledge that was immediately wiped, I might add—we don't believe him to be capable of such a curse."

Micah said nothing, so Lucero continued: "With magic that powerful, we believe this to be the work of a Witch or Wizard far beyond that of a fourth year…no offense…"

"So a professor?" Alicia asked at dinner.

Micah, Arno and Alicia sat at a corner table in the Mess Hall, to seclude themselves from the rest of their Hall.

"That's what I'm thinking," Micah said.

"What did Lucero say about it?" Arno asked, stuffing his face full of the greasiest burger anyone had ever seen.

"Nothing really," Micah said, much to the dismay of both Alicia and Arno, "I kept asking him if was convinced it could be a professor, but I think I got all I could out of him."

"Honestly, I'm surprised you got that much out of him," Alicia said taking a drink from her crabapple juice, "I mean, he's, like, super secretive and stuff."

Micah realized how true that was.

"I don't know why he talked to me about it," Micah realized.

"Maybe he _likes_ you," Arno suggested with a sneer.

"Yeah, or maybe I'll send you flying across the room," Micah threatened. Arno looked away as fast as he could.

"Both of you, shut up," Alicia demanded. "Micah, do you really think it's _that _bad? Maybe it's isolated, like Lucero said."

"But then why would my father insist on having Micah's dad come down here?" Arno questioned, still avoiding Micah's gaze.

"Exactly," Micah agreed, forgetting about the squabble, "I mean, seriously, guys, my dad only deals with seriously _dark_ stuff."

"Maybe he'll tell you about it?" Alicia suggested.

Micah truly doubted it. His father's biggest concern was his education at the Institute.

"Remember, son," his father had said, Micah's first day at the Institute, "Your education here is the most important thing. Your studies could be the only thing that separates you from certain death. Trust me."

Those words rang in his head like a daily alarm. He debated on writing his father anyway, despite the fact that he was coming to the school. Maybe some semi-impersonal correspondence would be beneficial? He knew he'd never have the courage to ask his father what was troubling him face-to-face.

"Well?" Arno pushed.

"I honestly doubt it, guys," Micah said, shaking his head, "Dad doesn't really like to talk about his work," he paused, "especially with me."

Arno and Alicia looked down at their plates. Micah had lost his apetite at this point. He decided against writing the letter, figuring that the last thing he needed was his father keeping an extra eye on top of the eye he would be keeping on Micah and his friends. _Best not_, he thought as he finally ate a French fry.

The rest of dinner was relatively uneventful, aside from Arno and Alicia arguing about which member of The Rabbit Hole—and all-girl Wizard-punk band from New York—was their favorite. Arno insisted it was Matilda 3-pots, while Alicia would not hear anything aside from Gertie Spitrat. Micah was personally fond of a band from the Northwest—Hollow's Eve, so he kept his opinion to himself.

As he lay in bed later that night, Micah found himself wrestling with his decision to not write his father. _I mean, I've not spoken to him in a few weeks, _he thought, _Maybe I could write him and ask him how he's doing, let him know that I'm excited to see him and then…ask him?_ He couldn't decide if the direct approach would be worse than indirect, but either way he'd be asking him. _I'll do it_, he decided, _I'll write him_.

He looked over at Arno, who was either in a deep sleep…or just unconscious. He lit a candle on his nightstand and strained his eyes to adapt to the low light. Quill in hand, he wrote:

_Hello, dad!_

_ I hope you are well; school is going really well—Arno and Alicia say hi._

_ I've really been enjoying my American History of Magic course, and while_

_ I don't much care for my Potions professor; I think I could really see myself_

_ using potions later in life. Speaking of, my Black Magic Defense professor_

_ has not only shown us really useful spells, but he actually mentioned that_

_ you were coming to the school! He didn't really say what for, but I'm assuming_

_ it's related to the rumors of one of my classmates practicing Black Magic…_

_ Dad, I'm only worried because of my friend Windel…he's cold, and his eyes_

_ are black… I'll definitely feel better with you hanging around, but what could_

_ have caused it? Maybe you could give a lesson in our Defense class?_

_ Love and respect,_

_ Micah._

_September 14, 2011 _

It was a little more direct than he intended, and though he heavily considered editing it, he decided against it. His dad would see right through his attempt to dance around the intent, and ultimately reasoned that his way was best if direct. His father would either be compliant or would tell him to bury his nose in his studies. _Either way_, he figured.

He folded his letter and placed it in an envelope that he had in one of his drawers, sealing it with the wax and seal his father gave him at the start of his 3rd year. The seal was of his family's crest, something his great grandfather designed: a simple circle divided by a dagger. At the center of the dagger was a lonely star. He had always wondered why his grandfather had chosen these symbols to represent their family, but not even his own father knew; the only answer Micah received was: "Your great grandfather was so clever, he was more than likely crazy. So, it's probably just nonsense." Regardless, his family wore it with pride. It defined them in the politics that was the American Wizarding community.

Micah released Arno's pet owl, Uriel, a barn owl—who was sleeping just as soundly as his owner—and poked him in the side. Uriel opened a single eye and nipped in Micah's direction. It was obvious he was not happy to be awake.

"Can you deliver this letter for me?" Micah asked as nicely as he could.

Uriel merely stared.

"What if I gave you a delicious mouse as a reward?" Micah bribed.

Uriel wasn't amused.

"Two mice?"

Nothing.

"I can do three."

Uriel stood immediately at attention.

"There you go," Micah said, confident he was strong armed by an owl. "Deliver this letter to Leslie Seabane, 434343 Lost Road in Salem. Can you do that?"

Uriel dipped his head slowly, an action that must have meant 'yes,' because he snatched the letter from Micah's hand and flew to their window. Micah raced to catch up and opened the window for Uriel, who looked at Micah with a deep intent.

"Yes, I will give you the mice when you return," Micah promised with an eyeroll, "but not if you don't get that letter to the person I asked. So…go. Please."

Uriel hopped out of the window and spread his wings, taking flight into the cool Salem air. _Let's see what dad says_, Micah thought. He was a little optimistic. Worst case scenario, his dad would tell him to mind his own business. Regardless, he would see his dad soon; it was just a matter of time.

**Note: I really hope you guys are enjoying it so far, considering I've really enjoyed writing it so far. I just wanted to take a quick moment to introduce myself and then respond to the 3 comments I've received. First things first, I'm Arthur A. Dragon. Obviously, that's a pen name, and we'll keep it that way for the time being. Maybe we can have a big reveal of who I am, but it's not like it matters *laughs*. Anywho, I'm a huge fan of the Harry Potter Universe, and I think JKR is inspiring as both a writer and an individual. HP is something my wife and I geek out too on a regular basis, and she was the one who really introduced me to this site, and the wonderful world that is HP fanfics. I wouldn't call myself an aspiring writer, but I do enjoy the craft, so this lets me exert those creative juices (at least for now).

To _Sirwormtailz and Ladylayla,_ I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. I've something a tad ambitious planned, so I'm hoping I'm able to realize that ambition. We'll see. As for incorporating actual HP characters, I think I've found a way to do that without "forcing" it, so you could expect them somewhere down the road. As for updates, I want to update at least once a week (for now) and I may update more, depending on when I finish chapters. The for sure is once/week for the time being. I write mostly in between my other projects, so those will be higher on the priority list. So, I hope that answers that.

To _Guest_, I wish you would have made some sort of handle; anonymity is only cool if you're spilling corporate secrets *winks*. But good luck on your story, I'll keep an eye out for it.

That's it for now! I'll answer more questions as they come, but I'll do it every couple of chapters or so, that way you guys aren't burdened by constant "author's notes." I wish you all well!

.xoxo. Arthur A. Dragon**


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